I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken -- and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
Even though I said that final good-bye
Even though it was all up to me
I still cry
I still cry for when we were the best of friends
For the nights we spent together
And for what was never suppose to be
I cry not for u or me but because of what was never there
I cry for what was in my mind and how it will never be again
To stop crying is something I somewhat learned from u
Too many kisses led to the tragedy
Too many hug
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